


Musicians Duet Better

by DollyPop



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Canon Het Relationship, F/M, Marching Band
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-09 23:22:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6928414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DollyPop/pseuds/DollyPop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So maybe he's got just the <i>tiniest</i> soft spot for the tuba-playing pixie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Musicians Duet Better

Marie never failed to astound everyone in the general vicinity when they spotted her as the lone tuba player, wielding an instrument both larger, and he suspected, heavier than she was. He’d recently been moved to fill the position of baritone horn, considering the last player suffered a rather unfortunate concussion walking a little too closely to a spin-happy color guard member. Kami chewed the poor girl out the second it happened, but at that point, it was too late.

Smugly, Stein recalled the fact that he was, still, the only color guard captain who went without a single injury caused by his group in the history of the band. And, frankly, the fact that he didn’t beat Spirit with a flag or a rifle was proof enough that he had more restraint than Kami.

He kind of missed Color Guard, actually. But they’d had an overabundance of members, and someone might have blabbed that he was trained on the trombone, and so, there he was. Being bounced around the band like a hockey puck. It was like he was an extra in a play or something.

Still, he was at least amused by the fact that as the bari horn player, he and Marie made a particularly silly sight, with his six foot plus frame making her look even smaller in contrast. The girl barely reached the middle of his chest unless she was wobbling about on six inch heels during practice.

How she managed that one, he would never know. He was surprised the astroturf didn’t break her ridiculous footwear.

Nonetheless, she was plenty competent, and she always carried valve oil on her person, which was more than a little handy. Stein yawned from his spot next to her, tempted to set his instrument down and adjusting his mouth piece for what felt like the millionth time, just waiting for the damn drum major to show up. Who did Spirit and Kami think they were fooling? The drum major and color guard captain didn’t need to spend so much time together before practice, regardless of routines they were talking about.

Stein rolled his eyes, taking a second to look at how his breath puffed in front of him. It was more than a little freezing and he suspected that if he didn’t have his gloves on, his hands would fuze to the bari. He almost wanted to go back to his days on clarinet, just so he could occupy his time by wetting a reed, or something. Their usual conductor, known only by his nickname of Lord Death, not with the slightest bit of sarcasm, considering he’d once made Justin Law run laps around the field for having his headphones in during a meeting, was off to the side, scowling. From all the way in front, Stein could barely make out the ranting of their lead flutist, Azusa, all but damning Spirit to hell. 

Considering they were going to be there for more time than he once thought, he went ahead and spared a glance down at his fellow bass-part player.

Stein KNEW it was cold because instead of stilettos she was in some strange, bread-loaf looking boots, but at least they seemed warm. Not warm enough, it seemed, because she was shaking so hard he was surprised the tuba didn’t clatter around. Her tiny, bare fingers were all but drumming against the brass, and her flimsy looking clothing didn’t strike him as particularly sensible.

His eyebrows came together without his permission, and his lips downturned. 

“Don’t you have gloves?” he asked, lifting a brow. Marie jumped, surprised that he was talking, and when she turned to him, she had to look up so much, he feared for the health of her neck.

Maybe that was why she wore heels so often. What was she? Four foot ten? Nine?

No matter.

Her face took on a sheepish expression and she shuffled around for a moment.

“I…uh, I might have forgotten…them?”

Bullshit. Knowing her, she probably handed them off to someone who’d actually forgotten them and told them she wasn’t cold. She always pulled the  _“I’m Swedish! This is NOTHING!”_ card, but considering she was shivering, he felt safe in calling her bluff. She’d never get her gloves back, anyway. Not that she would care: Marie was the kind of person who would give the last breath in her body to keep someone else alive.

It was silly of her. Noble, without doubt, but still silly.

He looked down at his own hands. No good, she was just too small to fill his gloves and they’d go and slide down without doubt. Sighing, he set his bari horn down on the disgusting astroturf, making sure the mouthpiece was nowhere near the ground before he went and unzipped his jacket.

“S-Stein?” she asked before he took the material off and all but threw it at her. Her mouth dropped open. “Stein! I can’t take your jacket-”

“If you hadn’t noticed, you’d catch hypothermia faster than I would.”

She ignored his subtle dig on her height, well accustomed to having banter about how he should experiment and see if he shared genetics with a giraffe and that she might be able to trace her lineage to Tinkerbell. “But you need your jacket, Frank-”

“Your shaking is annoying,” he cut in and Marie’s brows went up. He coughed, clearing his throat and busied himself with picking his instrument back up, settling it against his turtlenecked torso.

When he heard the soft sound of her own instrument being eased to the ground, he went and looked at her again. She was miniscule already, in his jacket even more so, with the material hanging down past the middle of her thighs and the sleeves going well beyond her fingers. Anyone else, he’d wonder if it would hinder their playing, but Marie knew what she was doing. His gaze cut back to her face and he immediately wanted to look away.

Damnit, why did she always have to do that sweet, smiley thing? It was ridiculous. To top it off, he could see just the tiniest hint of pride in her expression.

“Thank you,” she told him, her amber eyes glinting.

“Yeah,” he replied, wondering why he was suddenly feeling warmer if he wasn’t wearing his damn jacket.


End file.
